


the snake in the daffodils

by SpicyReyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 'White Knight' insp, Discussions of Suicide, Gen, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicidal Ideation, basically everyone thinks harry wants to die but he is actually just hella confused, discussions of self-harm, universe jumping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/SpicyReyes
Summary: Harry follows Sirius through the Veil of Death, and stumbles out on the other side of the Mirror of Erised, under a strange spell and stranded in an unfamiliar Hogwarts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Devil's White Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854605) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> so my favorite harry potter fic is "the devils white knight" and its a few years old now and has been orphaned so I'm just...stealing the concept  
> just the basic concept!! the ships and the universe jumping thing. may also create my own oc sibling to replace theirs bc that was interesting but havent decided yet if im willing to cut it that close to their work??  
> anyway this takes place during fifth year and ive been in the harry potter fandom for roughly a month so if i fuck something up im not surprised  
> also! longer chapters than my usual (about twice as long) bc i felt like writing a lot i guess idk just roll with it  
> enjoy, kids

There were hands reaching for him, he knew, and voices calling out...but they were too slow to react, and by the time they reached him, he was already stepping through the Veil, chasing after Sirius in a singleminded pursuit.

He found himself standing in a room he didn’t recognize. The room held only two items - a few steps in front of him was an old, worn chair, and behind him, when he turned to look, was a familiar mirror.

The Mirror of Erised looked much the same as the last time he saw it, in its dusty and battered silver frame, but that was not the point that caught his eye.

Standing in the mirror stood Sirius Black, smiling happily. As he stared, the man raised a hand and gave a wave, stepping back as he did.

Waving goodbye.

“No,” Harry said, approaching the mirror in long strides and reaching out as Sirius faded from view. “No, come back, don’t-...”

His fingers touched the surface of the mirror, and in the same instant, the glass shattered.

Shards flung outward beneath his hand shot toward his exposed arm, slicing several harsh cuts into it, and he hissed at the sting. Pulling his arm back, he racked his brain for a healing spell, but his panicked state and frazzled nerves scattered all sense from his brain. 

The second a spell occurred to him, he pulled out his wand, resting the tip against his arm, and breathed out,  _ “Reparo.” _

Pain lit up the entirety of each scar, and he watched the cuts slowly dry out, the blood retreating back into his veins, the skin knitting itself back together in ugly grey lines as it cleared. 

“Shit,” he breathed. He could remember, in hindsight, Hermione once explaining that item repair spells and skin repairing spells were different, and that he would have been better suited with an  _ Episkey,  _ but his thoughts kept slipping through his fingers. 

In the shattered glass, he saw his own face, looked haggard and utterly devastated, but somehow still not as horrible as he felt. 

Where was he? Hogwarts, presumably. He headed to the door, opening it to glance out into the hall.

_ That  _ bit, he recognized. It was the corridor outside the Room of Requirement. 

Harry shot one last look over his shoulder at the broken mirror, and stepped from the room.

The dreamlike feeling didn’t fade from him, the world still feeling fuzzy and distant, and he followed his feet without giving thought to where they were taking him.

Their destination turned out to be the Astronomy Tower. He couldn’t even remember walking up to it, but found himself standing there nonetheless, staring out at the night sky. 

His eyes were drawn to the ramparts, and the thin banister that surrounded the outside, a weak protection from anything dropping down. Anything, like a student’s school things, or important equipment-...

...Or a person. 

Harry was so close to that bannister, he realized. His hands reached out of their own accord, wrapping around the metal line.

Sirius was dead, he realized. His friends, who he abandoned without hesitation - they were probably dead, too. 

There was no one left to miss him.

His foot shifted forward, propping itself against a lower bar of the railings. He pushed himself up a second later, other foot joining the first, so that he was stood on the edge, leaning over into the empty space.

The drop looked endless. The dreamy feeling wouldn’t leave, and he felt almost as if it were speaking to him, phantom hands on his arms pulling him forward.

_ Harry,  _ whispers in the winds called to him.  _ Harry. _

_ “Harry!” _

Something latched onto the back of his robe, and he was yanked back harshly, stumbling back from the edge to avoid being choked by his collar. 

Wait.

Robe?

He looked down as he was released, and had half a second to be bewildered by his suddenly reappearing Hogwarts uniform before someone grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“What were you doing?” the person demanded.

...A familiar person. He raised his eyes, blinking in shock as he met those of his former teacher.

“Remus?” Harry asked, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

Remus looked outraged. He reared back, shoving a hand into his own robe, and a moment later it emerged with the Marauder’s Map, which he thrust into Harry’s chest.

“I had that charmed in your third year, Harry,” Remus informed him, entirely nonsensically. “It tells me when you’re up to something. Like standing up on the bloody Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night, well after curfew, when you should be  _ in bed. _ ”

Harry frowned, looking down at the parchment. It was folded, even slightly crumpled around one side - likely from an angry Remus gripping it too tightly - but he could see most of a symbol there. A snake chasing its own tail spun in a loop, making a neat circle, and within that circle were the words LEGACY MISCHIEF. 

Legacy. Him? Was that a reference to his father? Something told him the connection was not meant to be flattering. 

“And I find you up here,” Remus continued, “leaning of the side of the tower like a fool. What were you thinking? You could have fallen, Harry.”

Harry glanced toward the ramparts again. He felt like the phantoms were still there, beckoning to him, but they were weaker now. More confusing than enchanting, and his frown deepened at their presence. 

What was going on? What were those things? What did they want from him?

...Why did they want him to jump?

“...Go back to your dorm, Harry,” Remus murmured to him. “Please. Just...go back to bed. I’ll deal with you in the morning, when you’re rested. You look like you need it.”

His dorm?  _ Rest?  _ He couldn’t just go to bed while his friends were…

“I have to-...” He started, taking a step toward the edge again, only to be stopped by Remus’ grip tightening on his arms. 

He turned offended eyes on Remus, unable to grasp why he wasn’t allowed to go. 

Remus, however, was unrelenting. “Don’t, Harry,” he said - almost pleading now. “Let me-...go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll talk about this. You’re not in your right mind right now.”

The cloudy feeling was starting to ease, and when he looked back to the balcony, the phantoms were fading. 

“...Okay,” he said, through his confusion. “Bed. I need...I need to sleep.”

Remus’ shoulders dropped a bit, and he reached out, gently prying the map out of Harry’s hands. “I’ll take you back to the dorm,” he said, “and then I’ll be watching this. All night, Harry, so don’t even think about heading back out. You understand?”

Remus was so angry with him. Something else was there, too, but the world was still so fuzzy. 

Maybe sleep would clear the fog in his mind.

Remus guided him out of the tower with a hand latched onto his upper arm, the grip bruising without the man seeming to realize it, and Harry found himself scrambling for any bits of sense among the strange dreamy feelings as the influence of the strange force from the ramparts faded. 

Where was he? Why was he in Hogwarts, in uniform, with  _ Remus  _ of all people? 

What had happened with Sirius? Where was he? 

When Harry passed through the Veil...did he die? Was this some sort of afterlife? Did that mean Remus had died, too?

Nothing made sense, and his mind wasn’t cooperating enough for him to piece anything together.

Sleep, then. Or, at the very least, rest, until he was well enough to look into what had happened. 

When they reached the Hogwarts dorm, Remus stopped in front of it, looking to Harry.

He didn’t remember the password.

Remus must have caught that Harry wasn’t about to open it - if not necessarily  _ why,  _ judging from his continued annoyance - and offered the password to the portrait instead, escorting Harry through it.

“Go to bed,” he ordered a final time, releasing Harry’s arm. “I won’t do anything about this until we speak tomorrow, but you had best have an explanation for this little adventure.”

Before he left, Remus paused in the doorway, and delivered a last blow in parting.

“You’re lucky,” he said, “that it was me who caught you. I can’t imagine how your father would have taken it.”

He was gone before Harry could ask what the hell that meant. 

He stumbled his way up to the dorms in a daze, somehow found his bed, and was asleep before he was even fully in it. 

  
  
  
  


“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Harry groaned, raising himself up off the bed, lifting his face from the pillow it had been smushed into. 

His dreams...they’d been so odd. The Astronomy Tower, the phantoms - before that, even, with the mirror, and-...

_ Sirius.  _ Harry shot up, throwing himself off the bed and onto his feet, scrambling in search for his wand.

He’d left. He’d left in the middle of a battle and if he was  _ lucky, _ there would still be people left alive to hate him for it. He had to- he needed-

“Whoa, mate, calm down,” the person who’d woken him said, a hand dropping down on his shoulder. Harry rounded on them instantly, wand half raised, to see an alarmed and vaguely apologetic looking Ron Weasley. 

“Robins says you got dragged back in by your ears last night,” Ron said. “By  _ Lupin.  _ How’d you piss him off?”

Robins. Demelza Robins? She was in the DA. 

She was probably dead, if he’d left her behind, like everyone else. Hogwarts should have been burning to the ground around him.

Instead, it looked perfectly normal, quite the same as it had always been. 

That was another point in favor of the  _ afterlife  _ theory - right up there with Remus mentioning his father. 

“You must’ve had a  _ night,”  _ Ron continued, looking him over. “Passing out in your clothes and all. Did you sneak off to get pissed? Should’ve invited me. Actually, no, not if you were  _ caught.  _ Last thing I need is your family thinking they need to be watching me as close as they do you.”

Right. Remus said he’d put a special charm on the Marauder’s Map to track him specifically. 

In this conjured universe, his troublemaking habits were apparently no better than his ones-...when he was alive? Was that it?

The only thing he could think of was to hunt down Remus and try and get more information. 

Which, he supposed, wouldn’t be hard, because the man had been rather insistent that they would talk when Harry woke up. 

As quickly as he could manage, Harry freshened himself up - mostly through quick cleaning charms, as he had no sort of time for a shower - and headed out of the dorms and down to the Great Hall. 

Once he was through the grand doors, a few things came to his attention: 

One.Dumbledore was at the headmaster’s seat, so Umbridge wasn't a problem he had to deal with in anymore. It did, however, mean that if he was right and this  _ was  _ an afterlife, Dumbledore had died and Umbridge and Snape had both lived. An unfair trade. 

Two. Remus was not at the Professor's table. His seat was empty. Harry would have to find him elsewhere. 

Three. Next to his empty seat was a taken seat, held by a man who was distinctly  _ not _ Snape. Instead of a long nose, sneer, and greasy hair, this man had soft black curls and a gentle smile. 

He also looked disturbingly familiar, though Harry had no name to put to him. 

“Bloody hell,” someone said, and Harry looked to the source, a seventh year Gryffindor he didn't recall the name of. “Harry Potter's blessed us with his presence.” 

“Shut up,” Harry muttered, not really sure what the joke was meant to be beyond its mocking tone. 

“Oh, still too good for the common rabble, even when he shows his face.”

Harry turned a frown on the boy, but didn't get the chance to demand an explanation for what  _ that  _ meant before an arm was dropping around his shoulders. 

“Harry!” one of the Weasley twins greeted - Fred, he saw, and when he turned to look, George was grinning at him on his other side. 

“I heard the most interesting thing this morning,” George said. 

“Yes, yes, the portraits were all whispering about it,” Fred continued. 

“So, Harry, w-...”

Harry liked the twins fine, and he would apologize to them later for it, but he was impatient. “I don't have time to tell you the story. I need to find Professor Lupin.”

“He's a professor when he's mad,” Fred mock-whispered. 

“He's in his office,” George told him. “Least, that’s where he  _ should  _ be.”

“If he's still watching you,” Fred finished. “Apparently he stayed up all night for that. He's probably in a right terrible mood.”

“He was yesterday,” Harry muttered in reply. Then, louder, he said, “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

The twins looked shocked for a second, but Harry didn't waste the time to analyze that, just headed out. 

Halfway to Remus’ office, he caught sight of someone he was not very happy to see. 

“Potter!” Malfoy called out, his small following of Slytherins at his heels as he approached. “You didn't show yesterday. Chicken out?”

Harry had no idea what they were even meant to be doing the day before, and thus had no idea how he should respond. This was  _ Malfoy, _ though, and whether they were still alive or not and whatever was going on, Malfoy was a pain in the ass. 

“Piss off, Malfoy,” he told the other boy. “I don't have time for this.”

Malfoy huffed in response. “You’re in a mood,” he jeered. “Must be true, then. The family pet caught you out.” 

Harry had been preparing to simply walk past the group, but at those words, he stilled. “...What?”

“What did Lupin give you?” the other boy continued, unbothered by the tense set of Harry’s shoulders. “Detention for a week? Docked points? A letter to your dad?”

Harry turned, taking satisfaction in the way his cool glare halted Malfoy in the middle of his commentary. “What did you call him?”

“What, your dad’s pet?” Malfoy asked, sounding incredulous, as though he couldn’t think of a single reason why that would get Harry so close to hexing him. “Don’t tell me you two have  _ bonded,  _ or some nonsense. Honestly, even  _ you  _ can’t keep up with how many people you hate.”

“I don’t hate him,” Harry defended immediately.

The whole group went stone silent. 

“...News to me,” Malfoy said, slowly, watching Harry like he’d sprouted a second head. 

_ What’s going on?  _ Harry thought, looking to the side, taking in all the equally confused Slytherin faces.  _ Why do they think I hate Remus?  _

Come to think of it,  _ Remus  _ seemed to think Harry hated him, the day before. He was certainly angry at him, and apparently made a habit of keeping track of him, so maybe...Maybe, whatever was going on, they weren’t close. Maybe Remus blamed him for everyone dying?

He looked over the Slytherin faces, frowning. Death Eater’s kids, the lot of them, Harry thought. They had no reason to be dead - much as he would appreciate karma balancing their sides a bit. 

Maybe the  _ afterlife  _ theory wasn’t as sound as he’d thought. 

So what, then? He’d stepped through the Mirror of Erised when he arrived. Stepped through the Veil, from the other side. 

The mention of his father, the implication James was alive, suggested he might have ended up somehow in the world he’d seen in the glass years before. 

The phantoms, though. Were those the Veil? Was that hypnotic call to jump the residual effect of that mysterious artifact?

Neither explanation told him why everyone seemed to expect him to side with  _ Malfoy  _ and not  _ Remus.  _

“I don’t,” he repeated, voice low and slow to make it clear there was no room for debate about it. “And you can keep your fucking mouth shut about him, thank you.”

Malfoy’s nose crinkled up, whole face taking on an honestly  _ disgusted  _ appearance. “What’s gotten into you? Going blood traitor from all the time with that Weasley?”

The next second, several things happened. First, Harry’s temper snapped, and he whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at Malfoy’s face and scouring his mind for the most vile hex he thought he could reasonably get away with on school grounds. Second, Malfoy stumbled back a couple steps, both him and his following reacting with surprise and, if he recognized the looks properly,  _ fear.  _

Third, a voice shouted out an _ “Expelliarmus!”  _ and his wand flew out of his hand.

All eyes, both his and the Slytherins’, flicked to the source of the shout, to see the man from Snape’s seat stalking up to them.

“Draco Malfoy, you’re going to be costing your house points,” the man snapped at him. “I’ll figure out how many when I know what happened. Go to class.”

The Slytherins left without question, Malfoy tossing Harry one last confused look over his shoulder.

“And  _ you,”  _ the man continued, looking down to Harry. “What the hell were you thinking?”

That...was not a typical reprimand. Harry imagined it as something McGonagall might say, within the privacy of a closed office. Not something to throw out in the middle of a corridor, with students all around stopped to gawk. 

His eyes trailed around them, looking at all the horrified and shocked looks being sent his way. 

_ What was going on?  _

“Don’t look at  _ them,”  _ the professor said, hand grabbing Harry’s shoulder to catch his attention back. “You’re dealing with  _ me.  _ What on Earth were you about to do to Mr. Malfoy, Harry?”

“...I hadn’t decided,” Harry answered. It seemed to him a fairly neutral answer, as he wasn’t sure how sarcastic or blunt this particular unknown professor would let him be. 

He was, as it turned out,  _ wrong.  _

“You hadn’t  _ decided?”  _ the professor echoed. “Harry James Potter, you don’t point your wand in someone’s face when even you don’t know what you’re about to do.”

His full name made him flinch back a bit, unfamiliar and jarring because of it. It also added another level to this professor’s oddness - this scolding seemed less academic and more  _ personal _ . Not quite the level of Snape’s biased attacks against him, but he was definitely being singled out for this. 

This was something the man had said before, he realized. Whatever strange world he’d stumbled into, Malfoy thought they were allies, and the professors thought he was little more than a troublemaker. 

He was really getting sick of being confused. 

“What were you even doing?” his questioning continued. “What could  _ possibly  _ make you attack one of your friends?”

“We’re not friends,” Harry snapped back on reflex, only to regret it instantly when the crowds around them broke out in whispers, eyes darting to him and away again as the gathered students reacted to his apparently shocking revelation. 

The teacher seemed to finally notice that this was  _ not  _ a good place for their conversation, because he grabbed Harry by the arm - much like Remus had, his fingers almost lining up with the sore points from the night before, suggesting this was common - and starting to haul him down the hallway.

“Go to class,” he addressed the gawkers, who scattered away as they passed. To Harry, he explained, “We’re going to my office.”

“I was supposed to meet-..”

“I don’t care if your friends are waiting for you, Harry,” the professor said. “They’ll just-...”

“No, not my friends,” Harry huffed out, growing annoyed: he was confused and angry and in unfamiliar territory, and no one was fucking  _ listening  _ to him. “I was supposed to meet Remus.”

The professor stilled for a second, before starting off again, at a slightly smoother pace. “Professor Lupin,” he corrected, but it was done in a mutter than suggested it was not something he was really concerned about. “Why were you meeting him?”

“I was out after curfew.”

The professor turned a frown down at him. “And what were you doing that constituted a  _ meeting  _ rather than a detention?”

Harry shrugged - or, attempted to, only really successfully moving one shoulder, as the grip on his other arm tightened in response to the perceived attempt to pull free. 

A hum was his only response to that, and a moment later, they were in front of Remus’ office door, the other professor knocking firmly on the door.

Harry leaned away from the door a bit, trying to get himself as far from both men as possible as the door opened. He didn’t know what was going on or what sort of situation he’d found himself in, but he knew both of these people were angry with him, and that at least one of them expected him to be a prejudiced asshole about the werewolf status of the only one he actually  _ knew.  _

The unknown professor apparently took this shying away as another attempt to flee, as he hauled Harry forward, pushing him by Remus and into the office.

“Regulus,” Remus greeted, sounding tired. “I see you’ve found our fugitive.”

Harry’s spine snapped up straight. Regulus? As in Regulus  _ Black?  _ Sirius’ brother?

...Wasn’t he  _ dead? _

_ Well, _ Harry supposed.  _ That’s back to the afterlife theory, I guess.  _

Something really weird was going on in, and Harry was starting to lose track of how many things he didn’t understand. 

“I did,” Regulus said. “Found him in the middle of a corridor, trying to hex Draco Malfoy.”

Remus straightened up a bit himself at that, looking to Harry with wide eyes. 

Why was that so surprising? He found it really hard to imagine himself in any world being a pacifist, so that probably wasn’t it. Were they really  _ friends  _ here? And  _ where was here?  _

“Harry,” Remus said, and for once, he didn’t sound angry. His voice was soft, instead, and tired, the way it had gently calmed him after the Dementor attacks. “What’s going on with you?”

Harry felt the grip on his arm ease a bit, and Regulus asked a cautious, “What do you mean, Remus? Harry said you caught him out last night, but wouldn’t say what he was doing.”

Remus looked hesitant for a moment. “I…”

“Remus,” Regulus said, gentle but firm. “He’s my son.”

Harry froze.

...They’d called him  _ Potter,  _ but they’d never named his father when they mentioned him. Had he found a world where he’d been adopted?

By a family of  _ Death Eaters?  _

“The Map alerted me that he was out at night, and I followed it up to the Astronomy Tower.” Regulus had the beginning of a disgusted breath slipping out between his lips, clearly making an assumption, when Remus pressed forward and added, “Which he was rather close to jumping off of.”

The grip on his arm slackened completely, the hand almost falling away, and Harry took advantage of it to pull free. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he tried to explain. “None of this makes any sense. Why am I even here?”

Both men turned horrified looks on him, and it occurred to Harry that those words from a person they believed to be suicidal were probably not as clear as he’d intended them. 

“I mean, why is everything-...” He struggled for words that wouldn’t feed into the misunderstanding further. “Why am I friends with a prick like Draco Malfoy? Why does everyone seem to think I  _ am  _ a prick like Draco Malfoy? Where is-...”

They weren’t looking any closer to understanding. Regulus, in fact, looked a bit like he was wanting to cry.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Harry tried. “Yesterday, I was-...”

“Harry,” Remus interrupted. “You-...”

“Would you-..!” Harry snapped, and all three of them flinched at his shout. “No one is bloody listening to me, and I’m trying to explain that this isn’t... _ mine _ . My Hogwarts, my family, my friends - they’re not this. This is something else.”

“I don’t follow,” Remus murmured. “Harry, what are you-...”

“The Mirror of Erised is broken,” Harry tried. “I don’t know how, but I went..  _ Through  _ it. This is not where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be...Hell, I don’t even know. I don’t know where I’m meant to be, just...not here.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what any of this is. I don’t know how I got here.”

The words weren’t coming. It was like the fog from the Veil again, only in reverse - instead of everything feeling dulled and distant, it felt all too much, piling onto him and suffocating him under a million unasked questions. 

“You were using the mirror?” Regulus demanded. “Harry, what- You shouldn’t mess with magical artifacts. That is bewitching. People have gone mad in front of that thing.”

“I  _ know,”  _ Harry said. “I hadn’t looked at it in years. But I  _ did,  _ and before it broke I saw something, but it wasn’t my mum-...”

“Oh, Harry…”

Harry cut off, the  _ and dad  _ lost at the two sad looks being directed at him. The rushing in his ears grew louder, the air in front of him thinning further, words and simple breath both evading him. “What?”

Hands landed on his shoulders, and he flinched under their touch. Remus - the one who’d grabbed him, it seemed - hesitated for a moment at that, but only a split second, before dragging him forward into a hug.

He stood, uncomfortable, in the arms of a man he’d never actually met until today. A man who claimed to be his father here and hugged him like he was dying.

Which, he supposed, they thought he  _ was.  _ He wasn’t even certain they were wrong. Those phantoms had been there, and until he knew what was happening or why they had wanted him to follow them, he couldn’t really say for certain that this wasn’t something that would kill him. Perhaps this was the scheme all along, throwing him through the Veil into a mimicry of their world that was simultaneously his greatest dreams and his worst nightmares. A family, sure, but they hated him. Friends, plenty of them, but mostly blood purist pricks. 

Not famous, but infamous. Feared rather than idolized. 

They didn’t need to kill him if they just drove him too mad to fight back.

Arguing with the spectre family seemed like a waste of time. Whether they were conjured for a trick of magic or were real within the confines of an unknown universe, they were very obviously not interested in actually learning what he was trying to explain, too set on their firm opinion that he’d simply gone barmy and decided to kill himself. 

_ No one left to miss you,  _ the phantoms had cooed. Maybe this was what they meant - not that everyone who knew him was dead, just that he’d entered a realm where no one would mourn him if he did die. 

“You know I have to tell your dad, right?”

Harry frowned as Regulus released him. Had he not just said that  _ he  _ was Harry’s father? Oh, Merlin, what if he was a stepfather or something? His parents had been an ideal love story whenever people talked about it to him, but people embellished all the time. Maybe in a world where James lived, they got divorced and Lily went and married somebody else.

Like a Death Eater.

…He really hoped he was wrong, there. 

_ At least he’s not Snape,  _ Harry thought, which brought a grimace to his face before he could catch it.

“And I think you should take a few days off from classes,” Regulus continued. “Head back home for a bit, spend some time with family, try and…” He gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. Just feel better, I suppose.”

“I’m okay,” Harry answered flatly. “But the Mirror-...”

“Harry, forget about the Mirror,” Remus said. “We’re worried about  _ you.”  _

“And  _ I  _ am worried about the Mirror,” Harry snapped back. “I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t know why it changed before it broke, I don’t even know how I broke it. I don’t know what happened when it broke, either, because there was definitely some kind of magic on it that backfired when it shattered and made everything feel like I was asleep, and then I was on the top of the Astronomy Tower and something was trying to tell me I’d gone and buggered up enough to make sure there was no one left to miss me.”

Regulus’ breath caught, to his side, and Harry winced.

Remus, luckily, seemed a bit more focused, eyes narrowing. “You think you were under a spell?”

“I know I was,” he said. “Something the Veil did-...”   
“The Veil?”

“Of Death,” Harry said. “It’s-...”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Remus breathed out. “From the damn Department of Mysteries? Did you break into your dad’s office?”

...Was his dad an Unspeakable?

Not relevant, he told himself. Not yet, anyway. For now, he faltered, before asking, “Can I ask you something odd? Will you promise just to answer, and not ask why I want to know?   
“No,” Regulus said immediately, voice still sounding a bit choked. “But ask anyway.”

At least he was honest. “Can you tell me everything you know about Voldemort?” 

Regulus’ eyebrows rose. “Harry,” he said, slowly. “Your grandparents may have followed him for a bit, but the Aurors took him down for a reason. Don’t go entertaining his ideals.”

“Aurors,” Harry breathed. “He was killed?”

Looking incredibly confused, Regulus nodded. “Decades ago. When I was still in school. It’s barely even qualified as standard history, Harry, why is this important?”

“I…”

No Voldemort. A rather garbage Harry Potter, it seemed, but  _ no Voldemort.  _

His worst nightmares, but also his greatest dreams.

“...I think he used the Veil,” he said. “I think…”

He looked around, taking in Remus’ office. It looked cozy, and he could see lots of soft things scattered about on chairs and such, and pictures hanging on one wall. The largest of those depicted a wide smiling young Remus standing side-by-side with equally young Sirius Black, who was holding a baby with familiar brown skin and black curls.

That baby should have had a scar across his forehead. That baby should have been left on a doorstep. That baby should have grown up in hell.

“I shouldn’t be alive,” he realized. “He was supposed to kill me.”

Beside him, he thought he heard Regulus finally break, starting to softly cry. He couldn’t focus on that, though. The fog was back, crawling up to cover his mouth, and between breaths it took him under.

His last sight before passing out was a flash in the photo he’d been staring at, the faintest flicker on the baby’s forehead, showing the phantom of a scar he’d not ever received. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this as a complete work yesterday lmao  
> it's not! more is coming I promise  
> here's another chapter to prove it <3

“...and he just fainted?”

The world was swimming, and Harry was far too tired to try and pry his eyes open, choosing instead to simply listen to the conversation he’d awoken into the middle of. 

“I think he had a panic attack,” Remus said, his gentle tone offsetting the harshness of the admittance. “We were talking about some...stressful things.”

“I didn’t know,” a hoarse, rough sounding voice added. Regulus, Harry realized. He sounded much different than his angry voice. He’d definitely been crying. “Merlin, Remus, how long has he been-…?”

“Been what?” A third person asked, and Harry’s sleepy brain eventually matched it to Madam Pomfrey. He was in the medical wing, then. “Don’t tell me he’s been taking something. Hunting down an illegal potions supplier within Hogwarts is-...”

“I imagine it’s difficult,” Remus said, voice a bit tense, “but I don’t think he’s on anything. He mentioned thinking he was under a spell at one point, after messing with an artifact, but I don’t know if I think that has anything to do with..the rest of it.”

“Are either of you going to tell me what I’m treating?” Pomfrey demanded. “Or am I just supposed to guess?” 

“Depression,” Remus told her.

There was a silence over them. 

“...I’d ask if you were joking,” Pomfrey said slowly, “but I can tell by your faces you aren’t. How’d you find out?”

“Stopping a suicide attempt.”

_ “Merlin.” _

Harry struggled to try and wake up fully, to respond, to add any kind of denial, but instead, he was just dragged back under into sleep. 

  
  
  
  


Regulus was having one of the worst days of his life.

It had started off perfectly normal, right up to the point where he found his son attacking a boy he’d  _ thought  _ Harry was friends with. The attack itself wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever caught Harry doing on a whim, but the only bit of the argument that he’d managed to catch were the words  _ blood traitor  _ and  _ Weasley,  _ and he didn’t want to know how awful an insult the Malfoy boy hurled at Harry’s classmates to make him actually get defensive. 

But maybe he was just having a bad day, because according to Remus, he was a day off an attempt on his life.

And now, with his admissions done and his energy exhausted, they were free to examine Harry for any hidden problems - which, unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey actually  _ found _ . 

“Heavens above,” the matron whispered, before dissolving into incomprehensible murmurs that sounded an awful lot like creative cursing. 

“What?” Remus asked, stepping up to her. “What did you- oh.”

Regulus didn’t even have the strength to say anything, just walked up behind them, and let out an involuntary wounded noise when he saw what they were on about. 

Harry’s arm was  _ covered  _ in scars, the sort of thick and ugly ones that must have been agonizing to put there. 

“Reg!”

Regulus let out a harsh, relieved sigh, turning to watch as James stormed into the room. Sirius came behind him at a slightly more sedate pace, looking more concerned where James looked furious. 

“Moony, what the hell is going on?” James demanded. “They wouldn’t tell me anything, just that Harry was-...”

He cut off as Regulus grabbed at him, dragging him into a hug. 

“Reg, what’s happened?” James murmured, holding him gently, finally calming a bit at his husband’s distress. “It’s not like you to get this worked up about something.”

“Something’s wrong with Harry,” Remus explained. “He-..he’s not doing well.”

“What does that mean?” James snapped. “What’s wrong? Is he sick, or hurt? Did someone attack him?” 

“He attacked himself,” Regulus murmured to him. “Come, look.” 

He pulled back from the hug, dragging James forward with him to Harry’s bedside. 

“Bloody hell,” James breathed. “That’s…” He leaned over, fingertips resting against his son’s arm, trailing over the lines there. They were jagged in some places and straight in others, scattered at all different angles, with different dips and discoloration that suggested some had been significantly deeper than others. They all looked old, but that didn’t mean anything, with magic involved.

...Magic, indeed. He looked closer, squinting at the outer edges of one of the scars.

The uneven lines he’d seen were made up of smaller, perfectly straight lines, overlapping each other in a crosshatch pattern. 

“Oh, Merlin,” James cursed. “Just as bloody stupid as I am, aren’t you?”

“What?” Regulus asked, hand on his shoulder as he leaned in to look as well. 

“It’s a stitch line,” James said. “He used some sort of fabric repair spell, not a healing charm.”

“Why would he…?” 

James looked up at Remus. “I don’t know,” he said. “It would have hurt like hell. Especially if he did it more than once.”

Remus and Regulus exchanged a long look, clearly taking more from that information than James had. 

“What’s going on, love?” Sirius murmured, stepping up to Remus’ side. “Tell us.”

So, Remus took a deep breath, and did. 

  
  
  


When Harry woke again, it was easier, and he managed to blink his eyes open right away this time. 

Which, of course, he immediately regretted, because he looked up to find a cluster of adults all in various states of distress at his bedside.

Regulus was off to the side, fingers pressed against his mouth as he paced back and forth. Closer to the bed stood Remus, and - to his surprise -  _ Sirius _ , the two murmuring to each other quietly.

Right at his bedside, hand on his arm, was James Potter.

“...Dad.”

James startled, eyes snapping up to meet Harry’s. “Harry,” he breathed out, sounding relieved. “You scared us.”

A second later, all four men were gathered close at the edge of his bed. 

“Harry James Potter,” Regulus said, low and shaky, “don’t you ever do that to us again.”

“He used the full name,” James murmured to him. “That’s how you know he’s scared.”

“He...used it earlier,” Harry informed him, hesitant. “When he was yelling at me.”

“Yelling?” James echoed, before turning to look over his shoulder at Regulus. “When did you yell at him?”

“When he was about to hex a boy in the hallway,” Regulus replied. 

James looked back to Harry, eyebrows up. “Starting fights?”

“Finishing them,” Harry said. Then, before he could be interrogated further, he asked, “Why are you here?”

James’ face fell a bit, the light-humored grin he’d been sporting becoming strained. “They asked me to. Said you were...sick.”

There was something off about his voice as he said that, and Harry slowly turned to look over the other faces in the room. 

Remus looked apologetic; Regulus, just plain guilty. 

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake,  _ Harry thought, dropping back against the mattress. 

He must have said it out loud, because James scolded a weak, “Language.” At Harry’s incredulous look, he shrugged, and abandoned the token parenting to try and ask after his health again. “Harry, why didn’t you-...?”

“Stop,” Harry said, sitting up. “Stop, don’t ask me why I did or didn’t do anything, I don’t  _ know.  _ I should be-...”

“You  _ shouldn’t-...”  _

“Would someone let me finish a sentence?” Harry snapped.

Silence fell over the room. 

Harry let out a low, unhappy breath, and considered his circumstances. A father he’d never met was at his bedside, convinced that he was in a depression slump or something, while another man he’d never met that was  _ also  _ apparently his father, was standing nearby looking guilty for having been the one to mislead him in the first place. He was in some strange world, adjacent to their own, where there was no Voldemort and everyone was still alive and presumably doing well. The trade off was that he was apparently friends with Draco Malfoy, a blood purist asshole, and a generally shitty person. 

His eyes sought out Sirius, locking onto his face, not seeing anything in the sorrow there that suggested he remembered a world where these things were so different, where he’d wandered through the Veil of Death and vanished. 

He looked back to James, who was watching him intently, lips pressed into a thin white line. He looked like he was biting something back, probably waiting for Harry to use the silence he’d demanded to say something - anything at all, good or bad, whether an explanation or an excuse. 

He had nothing. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know why the Veil had linked to the Mirror or why it had spat him out here. He knew of time travel magic, but was it possible that there was even more divergence in the realm of magic, that a second world could exist so loosely tied to his own, so different despite it having the same basis?

...Could he go home? Or was he stuck here, forever, among strangers who’d known him his whole life?

“...I’m fine,” he said. “I...what R- _ Professor Lupin  _ saw, it was a spell. It backfired on me after I broke the Mirror, is all. I’m  _ fine.”  _

To his side, James snorted.

Harry turned a bewildered (and somewhat offended) look to his father, who reached out and took his wrist again, dragging his arm up and into the light.

It was covered in scars. It took a moment for Harry to remember the glass shards that had blown into it, and the agony of the botched spell to fix them. 

“Kid,” James said, “I know you don’t think it, but you’re a shit liar.”

Harry scowled, yanking his wrist back. “I’m not lying,” he said. “Why am I the one who has to explain myself? I’ve got nothing but accusations and shouting from any of you. You lot are determined to think what you want about me, so I don’t know why I should even have to be here. You can argue amongst yourselves over what  _ you _ think is wrong with me, and I can go back to the Room of Requirement and see if I can’t figure out what went wrong with the Mirror.” 

“Harry Potter, watch your mouth,” James told him, in a warning tone he usually hear from professors before they started docking serious points. “We’re just worried about you. We want to know the truth.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Yesterday,” he said, “I stepped through the Veil of Death.”

James frowned. “...You died?”

“No, literally,” Harry corrected. “The one in the Death Room at the Ministry.”

James froze, and then his eyes narrowed into suspicious squints. “How do you know about that? Have you been through my work things again?”

“I haven’t done anything,” Harry said. “This time yesterday, you were dead, and so were you-...” he nodded to Regulus, “And those of us that were  _ alive  _ were fighting to stay that way, in the Ministry. Then Sirius went through the Veil, and I followed him into it, and then I was spat out of the bloody Mirror of Erised and nothing makes any sense anymore.”

James moved, and a second later, he was pressing his wand’s tip against the crease of Harry’s elbow. 

“What are you-...?”

“Testing for potions,” Remus explained. “Seeing if you’ve taken anything.”

_ “Inteligo,” _ James muttered.

The tip of his wand flared out a light, and it soaked into Harry’s skin. The glow faded for a moment, then hit his vein, flaring up brightly, visible through his skin. 

James said nothing, just pushed up out of his chair and headed out of the room. Regulus shot Harry one last look before hurrying after him, and Sirius sighed out, “I’ll get them,” and followed them both out. 

“They gave you a calming potion,” Remus said. “I’m not sure James realized that. I’ll explain when he calms down.” 

“So you believe me?” Harry asked. “Or, at least, you don’t think I’m on drugs.”

“I think something’s happened to you,” Remus said, speaking each word as though they were chosen deliberately. “It doesn’t matter what it was. What matters is that it’s clearly bothering you, and we haven’t taken the time to notice, and for that, I’m sorry.”

“So you don’t believe me,” Harry summarized, letting out a low, defeated sigh. “I don’t know why I bothered. No one’s listened to me all year.”

“All year?” Remus echoed. “Having a bad one, are we?”

“Getting worse every day,” Harry confirmed, and then immediately winced, rushing to add, “I’m not-...”

“Relax, Harry,” Remus said. “We’re your family, and we love you. I know you don’t like us crowding you, but you’ve just...really scared us all. We’re worried.”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Harry insisted. “I have no idea what’s going on here, I’m not even sure what day it is now, and I owe Malfoy a punch in the fucking mouth, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“What did Malfoy do?” Remus asked. “I was under the impression you two were friends. Regulus claims you said otherwise, though.”

“ _ If _ he considers himself my friend,” Harry said, because he very much doubted that could be possible in any universe, “he should keep your name out of his mouth. Does he  _ know-..  _ What?”

Remus was looking at him with wide eyes, completely stunned. “You...He was talking about  _ me?  _ That’s why you got angry with him?”

“...Yes?”

Remus blinked, giving a short, surprised laugh. “He must have said something awful for it to have crossed a line with you.”

Harry remembered the confusion of the Slytherins when he said he didn’t hate Remus, and wondered - as he was doing often - what sort of prick he’d been in this world. 

His current theory as to his situation was that this was a trick of Voldemort’s, trying to prove to him that his existence wasn’t the damaging part of Harry’s life - that he was perfectly capable of destroying everything all by himself.

If that were true, though, Voldemort had a lot to learn. Harry had grown up with a ‘family’ that hated him for every breath he drew. If everyone was still alive, he could bear them not liking him. He’d worry about being loved when he was back with his friends. 

He wasn’t sure how much of this world was  _ real,  _ and how much was an illusion, but…

...Even if the world around him was just a spectre, it felt wrong to leave things how they were.

“Remus,” Harry murmured, catching the man’s attention. “You know...You know I don’t hate you, right?”

Remus looked at him with the same kind of open awe and adoration that Harry had once been met with in a pub, introducing himself at eleven to witches and wizards who admired him for something he hadn’t even done on purpose, and that was answer enough. 

“Merlin,” Harry breathed. “I’m a right arse, aren’t I?”

Remus let out a startled huff of laughter. “You’re not so bad,” he said. “You’re...you’re a handful, certainly. Very opinionated, not very patient...but you’re ours. We love you.”

“So you said,” Harry muttered. 

“Because it’s true.”

“Mm.”

Remus reached out, catching one of Harry’s hands in both of his own. “Harry,” he said, low and serious, “We do love you. We’re just...We’re so tired, Harry. Your parents, especially. You don’t make it easy on us.” He looked down, hands moving up to trail over the skin of his forearm, along the scars. “And...I know things aren’t easy for you, either-...”

Harry pulled his arm back, uncomfortable with the assumptions, but didn’t waste his breath on arguing further. “So what happens now?” he asked. “None of you are going to let this go, I can already tell.”

“We were thinking you’d take a week off classes, and go home with your dad,” Remus said. “Your papa and I will stay and teach, but we’ll come over by floo in the evenings.”

Papa. Not step-dad, then, but an actual parent’s title. 

“Remus?” Harry asked, gently. At the man’s acknowledging hum, he continued, “...Where is my mum?”

Remus blinked, then looked slightly sad. “I think she is in Greece at the moment,” he said. “I could send her a letter, if you-...”

“No,” Harry said, cutting him off. “No, that’s fine. I just…” He’d just wanted to make sure she was alive, was all. “...What’s she doing in Greece?”

“Maybe you should write to her,” Remus said, rather than give an answer. “She’d come by in a heartbeat if she knew you were missing her, you know that.”

He didn’t, actually. He didn’t know anything about her, except that she had died to save him, and that she’d loved him so fiercely it had branded him. In this world, though, something else must have been going on, because she was nowhere to be seen. 

...That brought up another question, though, and this one he couldn’t get away with asking outright: how the fuck did he have  _ two _ dads?

Unless…

“...Dad,” Harry said slowly, “and...Papa?”

“Yes?” Remus asked. “What about them?”

Harry fumbled for a subtle way to ask  _ are they together?  _ without leading back into more bad explanations and offensive drug testing. “Ah, nothing,” he said, finally, figuring it wouldn’t be too hard to find out on his own if he did end up going back with them. “Just… sorting some things out in my head, is all.”

“A noble pursuit,” Remus murmured, lips quirked up in an amused little smile. 

Any further commentary was cut off as the door opened again, Sirius slipping through it. There was arguing to be heard in the hall behind him, but it muffled enough when the door swung shut that it was almost immediately forgettable. 

“Warzone out there,” Sirius breathed out, crossed the room to drape himself across Remus’ back. “We’re not like that, are we?”

“We’re worse,” Remus replied, without hesitation. 

“It’s ‘cause he married a Slytherin,” Sirius sighed. “Terrible idea.”

“He married a  _ Black,”  _ Remus added. “He was doomed from the start.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius said. “You love me and you know it.”

Remus turned his head, smiling up at Sirius, who responded by leaning forward and giving him a gentle little peck of a kiss. 

Harry looked away quickly, scrambling to process that. He supposed that answered his question about his parents, at least, if it did also give him a million more questions to ask. 

“They’re not arguing about you, just so you know,” Sirius told him - which, honestly, Harry hadn’t even taken a moment to be concerned about it until he mentioned it. 

“They’re not?” He asked, incredulous. 

Sirius hesitated a moment. “...Anymore. Technically. They’ve moved past that, I think.”

Harry looked toward the door. “What is it now, then?”

“Probably scheduling,” Remus said. “They’ll spend a while trying to decide who stays with you through the week and who still works.”

“They could both work,” Harry said. “I’m fine.”

“Unlikely,” Sirius replied. “Eventually your papa is going to have his way, and they’re  _ both _ going to be at home with you.”

“I’m by myself, then, am I?” Remus asked, not sounding particularly surprised. “Thrilling.” 

“That’s really not necessary,” Harry tried again. “I don’t even-...”

“Give it up, kid,” Sirius told him. “Reggie is a stubborn bastard, and your dad can’t resist his puppy eyes to save his life.”

“Puppy eyes,” Remus echoed, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “ _ Regulus _ has  _ puppy _ eyes?”

“Maybe kitten eyes,” Sirius amended. “From an angry, spiteful little kitten.” 

Harry considered what he’d seen of Regulus so far - his grief at Harry’s apparent struggling, and before that, his sharp anger at his confrontation with Malfoy. Annoyed as he was with the man, he felt bad for his father for having to deal with that turned on him. 

The door swung open again, this time revealing Regulus, who crossed the room in long and deliberate strides. 

“Harry,” he said, as he reached the bed. “A house elf is collecting your things at the moment. You’re spending a week at home, with us.”

His tone was firm, leaving no room for debate. His face, too, was set in harsh lines and utter stone. 

Arguing with them, he’d already learned, was pointless. Instead, he just sighed, and offered a mutter of, “If I must.”

Regulus gave a single, sharp nod. “I’m going to inform the headmaster that you and I will be absent for a week.”

He didn’t wait for an agreement or dismissal, just turned and left. On his way out, he breezed right past a very tired looking James, who was on his own way back to Harry.

Sirius let out a low whistle. “You pissed him off something awful, didn’t you?”

“He’s in a mood,” James muttered, dropping down in a chair beside the bed. “He’ll calm down.”

Harry wondered if this was common, or if he’d just upset the balance of this strange world with his arrival. Likely the latter was at least partially to blame, as he’d done nothing but stress them out since he showed up, and they were still struggling to come to terms with things that weren’t even true while firmly ignoring anything he said as a nonsensical alibi. 

“Sorry,” Harry offered, with that in mind. “I imagine that’s my fault.”

Everyone looked at him, various combinations of surprised and suspicious. 

Right. He was a prick. How could he forget?

Rather than try and offer explanation or justification for his being suddenly decent, he leaned back again, looking up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. 

Maybe he could doze back off, manage a brief nap before he was dragged off into yet another area of unfamiliar territory.

As he closed his eyes to try, he missed James pulling out his wand, casting a muffling charm over the bed he was laid out on.

  
  
  


“Alright,” James said, when he was satisfied Harry would not be able to hear them. “What did you want to say?”

Remus shook his head, frowning at the boy, who appeared to be on his way back to sleep. “I really think something happened to him. He’s...different.”

“Different?” Sirius parroted back. “Different how?”

Remus wrung his hands. “He...He’s apologized more than once now, for things he would have snapped at us about only yesterday. And he claimed- well, apparently, his fight with the Malfoy boy was about  _ me.” _

James blinked. “What about you?”

“He said Malfoy was saying things he didn’t like, was all,” Remus said. “And when I wondered what could be so bad as to offend him, he got rather upset.” After a moment, he quietly added, “He told me that he doesn’t hate me. I must have looked surprised, because he just...he looked  _ devastated,  _ James.”

James looked to Harry, pushing his glasses up on his nose a bit, watching his son curiously. The boy had always been  _ difficult,  _ and none of them had ever really figured out why. James’ penchant for mischief and general lack of respect had combined with Lily’s sharp tongue and iron spine to create a bane upon all authority, family included. 

If he was having a change of heart, James would take it...but he really didn’t want to know what could have caused it.

“There’s something else, James,” Remus said, slowly, sounding reluctant to mention it at all. When their eyes met, he quietly informed him, “I think he misses his mother.”

James straightened a bit. He and Lily had gone their separate ways when Harry was very young, her gravitating towards magical research that took her on journeys across the globe whilst James preferred his work in the Ministry, which made him better suited to be the one who kept Harry. No one had ever been bitter or angry about it, as far as he knew, but…

...Maybe he hadn’t looked close enough. Harry was old enough, then, that he might have taken offense to her leaving. Old enough that he would resent them for her being away, resenting them more the longer Lily went between visits.

“He was talking about the Mirror of Erised,” Remus continued. “And he let it slip that what he saw in it originally was his mum.”

James examined Harry’s face as he slept, noting how restful it  _ wasn’t.  _ His features were all pinched and strained, and he looked almost as though the sleep was more taxing than being awake had been. Which, honestly, was saying something, because he looked absolutely knackered, and Regulus had claimed it had been even worse when they caught him originally.

Was the answer that simple? That Harry possibly just resented them for the idea that they might have been the ones to make Lily leave?

If so, what changed? Why come around now?

Maybe he  _ had  _ taken something - the test was useless, apparently, because Regulus reminded him that they’d poured a calming potion down the boy’s throat immediately when they found out what was happening - and his babble about the Ministry and death was from some strung out potion dream. 

Or, maybe, someone had said something to him, or- or  _ done  _ something, he didn’t know, possibly he got into a fight or-...

Speculation didn’t get him anywhere, though. He was an Auror, they dealt in facts.

The facts he knew were that Harry was unwell, and that he was taking whatever was wrong out on himself. And, of course, that whenever he tried to explain, he dissolved into babbling.

….Oh, no, he couldn’t have. Could he?

James stood up again, dropping the muffling charm to come up to Harry’s side. Yet again, he pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Harry’s forehead, murmuring the diagnostic spell and dragging it downward along the length of his body. 

Around his throat and chest, the spell revealed a thick purple smoke, unlike anything James had ever seen.

“What is that?” Sirius asked. “It looks like-...”

“A curse,” Remus breathed out. “There’s a curse on him. That’s why he can’t tell us what’s happening. Someone’s cursed him to keep silent.”

“Find out who,” Sirius said, voice such a low growl James was almost convinced he was about to shift into his animagus form right there in the hospital wing. “I’ll-...”

“He could have done it to himself,” James suggested, reluctantly. “It wasn’t cast with a wand, it’s too tightly wound around his throat. This is the kind of connection you get from spell rebounds, or potions, or-...”

“Artifacts,” Remus breathed out. “The Mirror. He said he shattered it, and fell under a spell. Could that be it?”

“Could be,” James allowed. “It could have been enchanted so that no one could disassemble it to find out how it worked, so no one would try and make another. Perhaps there was a secret inside it that needed to be protected. Unspeakables put those kinds of curses on almost every artifact they work on.”

“If he were using the room with the Mirror as his escape,” Remus said, working it out,  “and broke it, cursing himself, it might have blocked out everything to do with those trips. Putting a lock on any loopholes in the restriction. It took him forever just to get around to mentioning the Room of Requirement.”

“Can we remove it?” Sirius asked.

“I’ll talk to Regulus,” James said. “I think there’s a potion that will work, but I’m not nearly skilled enough to make it myself. It would be difficult even for a potions master.”

“So, naturally, Reggie will get it right on his first try,” Sirius chirped. 

James huffed out a laugh. “Let’s hope so.”

  
  
  
  


“Harry?”

Harry stirred as his shoulder was gently shaken, reaching for the side table to grab the glasses someone must have pulled off him at some point.

“I’m back,” Regulus told him, once he could see. “Are you ready to go?”

Harry gave a short, succinct nod in response, and moved to climb out of the bed.

As soon as he was on his feet, Madam Pomfrey appeared, pressing a ribbon-wrapped wooden box into his hands. “Calming draughts,” she explained. “Take one each morning, and there are three extras for emergency. Do not drink them all at once, do not ask for more. Ten in a week is pushing it as it is.” 

Harry opened his mouth to protest that he really didn’t need them, but she turned and left without even waiting for a response. 

Regulus gestured to the end of his bed, where a folded set of clothes was sitting. “Get dressed, and we’ll leave. They’ve opened a floo network in the fireplace down here, so that we don’t have to go far. They’ll be leaving it open, but restricted, so you can come back here if you need to.” He paused, looking at Harry sternly, and emphasized, “If you  _ need  _ to, only. Don’t go wandering about if you just get bored.”

Harry couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he’d be so bored, the hospital wing of Hogwarts would be more interesting. His cupboard at the Dursley’s was more entertaining than Madam Pomfrey. He knew better by now than to jinx himself by saying so out loud, however, so he just nodded and complied without a word.

“Harry?” 

Harry paused, letting the shirt he’d changed into drop down into place but not moving to keep getting dressed yet, prompting Regulus with a quiet, “Yeah?”

“I love you,” Regulus told him, quietly. “We all love you. I don’t know what we’d do if we’d have lost you.”

Guilt rose in Harry, because even if Regulus didn’t know it, they  _ had  _ lost him. The version of him they knew was gone, and he didn’t know how to get him back.

...Merlin, he hoped the other Harry wasn’t out there with his friends, taking command of an army he didn’t know in a war he couldn’t possibly understand. 

He couldn’t say anything like that, though, nor could he honestly return the sentiment. Instead, he just gave a shallow nod, and turned back to his clothes, hoping no one would look closely enough at him to see the turmoil rolling inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clarification that will come up more later: lily is not an absentee mother, she stops by all the time and sends harry gifts and letters constantly, but her relationship with the family is the same as it was in white knight, meaning Eccentric Aunt type more than mom  
> also, now I have to decide if I want to make an oc sibling, like the author of white knight had, or if thats too much  
> thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty much universal "no" to the sibling, so I'm gonna mix up some of the other character roles to fill in the gap....starting with the end of this chapter/beginning of next ;)

Harry wasn’t really sure what he expected to see when he stepped out of the floo-linked fireplace into the Potter estate, but it wasn’t...this.

_ This  _ being a rather cozy looking living room, that was large and well decorated but otherwise completely normal. There were none of the superfluous fancy paintings or tapestries he’d come to associate with pureblood wizarding families, despite supposedly belonging to two of them.

Instead of cold and impersonal aesthetic choices, the furniture was soft-looking and worn down a bit with use, and all the pictures on the wall were of - presumably - their family.

Harry turned behind him, to the mantle, and scanned through the photos there as the others chatted amongst themselves about plans and rooms and other practical things they absolutely should have already had sorted.

There were several Marauder-era photos, such as one featuring young James catching Sirius with an arm around his shoulder, the magical image forever looping the eye roll he received. There were two separate wedding photos, side by side, which seemed odd, considering they featured they same person with two different spouses. One had Lily, radiant in a wedding dress, hitting James on the shoulder while she tossed her head back with laughter. The other featured the couple’s toast of James and Regulus, and Harry was amused to find they’d chosen to display the few seconds that spanned James lifting his elbow where it was wrapped around Regulus’, causing them both to spill their drinks over their face. The last frame before the loop started over featured them both hunching in, and he could practically hear them fighting not to inhale wine while they laughed about it.

They were both exceptionally happy photos, and Harry mourned that he’d never been able to see his parents like this.

Moving on, he skimmed over a photo of Sirius lifting Remus up in the air, which was being visibly protested, and landed on something even more interesting that the wedding photos.

It was him, he thought, though it was hard to recognize his younger self when the Dursleys had never chosen to take or display photos of his growth, and the scar wasn’t there to verify his identity. That was definitely his mother holding the child, though, and so it was  _ most likely  _ him. He looked young - around six or seven, maybe - and holding something up for the camera while his mother giggled behind him.

Closer inspection revealed his prize to be what looked a bit like a snitch, but bulkier and matte, looking more like plastic than metal. A toy version, maybe.

He reached out, picking up the photo, memorizing the details of it. The crinkle beside his mother’s eyes, the way her lips pressed together to smother her laugh, the way her grip flexed on his arms to accommodate his squirming about - all of it.

His mother looked so  _ happy.  _ Every part of him ached over it, and he pushed down the discomfort crawling up into his throat and sat the photo’s frame back down.

Mantle photos complete, he moved to the ones hanging on the wall, making a slow circle around the room. There were a lot of him: decked out in gear for a Quidditch team he didn’t actually know at a game around age ten, as a toddler trying to shove an entire chocolate frog into his mouth, around five and peering over Regulus’ shoulder to look in a cauldron, each adding to the image of a wonderful childhood.

While the pictures of himself as a small child were plentiful, though, older versions of him were scarce. Most of them appeared to be his first few years at Hogwarts - a nervous-looking eleven-year-old waving goodbye at the train station, off to school for the first time, was the first he spotted, and the rest seemed to be similarly tied to landmark achievements. There was a newspaper page in a frame that spoke about him as a promising student seeker, a few scholastic awards, an acceptance for publication from a wizard’s monthly journal, all sorts of things that suggested he did well...but nothing with his face. The few times he did appear, photos presumably taken over the summer holidays, he was either avoiding the camera or scowling at it, clearly unhappy to be a part of them.  

He found himself freezing in front of a photo, hiding away in a little frame in the middle of a bunch of much larger and happier photos, that featured the first picture of him  _ smiling  _ as a teen that he’d seen.

He was grinning widely, not looking at the camera - likely not even realizing it was there. He was in Quidditch practice gear, standing in a grand manicured yard, holding a broom in one hand and a snitch in the other. Both hands were raised in celebration, and as he watched, the victorious image of himself crossed the grounds to meet someone rushing to congratulate him.

Someone that, from behind, appeared to be  _ Draco Malfoy. _

They weren’t wrong, then. He and Draco  _ were  _ friends. Another thing he’d probably gone and buggered up, but it was too late now. He grimaced at the thought - this other him had best not have to come back to this, not with Harry offending his friends and landing him on suicide watch.

“You know,” a voice came over his shoulder, making him jump. Regulus let out a low laugh in response, saying, “Sorry. I was just going to say - I don’t know what’s going on with you and Malfoy, but you two have always seemed like such good friends. I’m sure if you explain-...”

“I won’t apologize to him,” Harry muttered, eyes locked on the photo. “He crossed a line.”

“Remus said you defended him?”

Harry shot a slightly annoyed look at Regulus over his shoulder, because the disbelief in his tone was unappreciated, but he dropped it almost immediately. They weren’t thinking poorly of  _ him,  _ not really, just the version of him that they knew.

“He crossed a line,” Harry repeated, and left it at that, moving on from the photo.

He found himself examining a photo of Sirius and Remus that appeared to be from their own wedding, totally oblivious to the Potter family gathering around to watch him.

  
  
  


Remus had never seen Harry like this: distant, contemplative, taking in the photos in the room like he’d never seen them before. He had seen similar disgust on the boy’s face - often directed at them - but never seen it turned on the image of himself, the way his scowl appeared at each photo of his surly teen self.

He paused the longest on photos featuring his mother, which convinced Remus that he was going to have to contact her, even if Harry wouldn’t admit to missing her. When he’d cycled the full room, he stopped back in front of the mantle, picking up the picture of his seventh birthday again.

Harry had loved the practice snitch they’d gotten him, and spent weeks dragging them out of bed each day to play with him. When the school year started, he’d stopped, not having as much fun without the only actual seeker in their family away for work. Regulus, at the time, had joked that he was Harry’s favorite.

That was before he withdrew, before he became hostile, back when things like that could be said and treated as light-hearted jokes. Now, no one claimed to be his favorite, even in jest. Any jokes about favoritism were replaced with darker humored references to his low opinion of them, if anything was said about it at all.

But now...Now, Harry seemed to be aware of them, in a way he hadn’t before. He seemed hesitant, reluctant to speak too harshly or start any fight. The faintest of apologies dropped from his lips on occasion, offhand but sincere.

_ I don’t hate you,  _ he’d said. His face had read nothing but a desperate honesty, begging Remus to believe him.

He thought of the spell they’d seen around his throat, and his gut churned. He hoped Regulus was able to break it, because as grateful as he was for the reemergence of Harry’s softer side, certainly nothing good could have brought it out.

Something had convinced Harry, somehow, that his behavior was wrong, but in doing so had also convinced him that  _ he  _ was wrong, that there was an issue in who he was fundamentally rather than the choices he made.

He seemed disgusted with himself, to the point of self-hate. Remus remembered the look on his face when he didn’t assure Harry that he knew he wasn’t hated. 

The marks on his arm suggested this wasn’t an overnight thing, either. How long had this been going on, with them just not noticing? 

...Did they drive him to this? Had he tried, first, to change, and grown frustrated when no one realized it? Had they been the ones to make him give up on himself?

Remus pushed away the speculation, knowing it would get them nowhere, and focused on Harry again.

He had the frame of Lily’s photo in both hands, studying the image with focus he usually devoted only to the most difficult of assignments. 

He turned, intending to catch James’ eye, but the man was watching Harry himself, a tense set to his lips.

“I’m going to owl her,” Remus murmured to Sirius, who nodded to acknowledge him, and slipped from the room.

Whatever had happened to Harry, he needed his mom.

  
  
  
  


A pop sounded behind Harry, startling him, and he spun to the side to catch the eye of the suddenly appearing house elf.

The house elf let out a squeak, recoiling from him and taking a few steps back.

A few steps back  _ in fear,  _ because Harry had been surprised, and they expected him to react. The house elf was scared of him. 

Harry was going to find this other version of himself he’d stolen the life of and fucking strangle him. Given that everyone believe he wanted to kill himself, it was a rather ironic thought.

“Mosely,” James greeted the elf, stepping between them. “Is Harry’s room set up?”

“Yes, sir,” the elf breathed out, looking a bit less terrified with someone in the way. 

Harry was going to be sick. He was going to be sick, and then he was going to find a time turner and back up a few days to beat his own face in. 

Actually, that was a pretty good idea - back up a couple days and ask himself what the fuck was going on. Apparently, it would be remarkably like dealing with Malfoy, but he could deal with that if it meant getting some actual answers. 

“Excellent. Thank you, Mosely.” James turned around, smiling thinly at Harry. “We’re good to go, then. Maybe you should get some rest.”

“I’ve been asleep for ages,” Harry reminded him, but between sleep and sitting here being stared at, he’d take sleep.

Or, at least, hiding for a few hours, until it was safe to explore the house unobserved. 

If he wanted to fix some of this other Harry’s messes, though, this might serve as a good starting point. He leaned to the side, around James, and asked, “Ah, Mosely?” When the house elf startled, he gave his best attempt at a reassuring smile and asked, “Can you take me to my room?”

The elf looked like he was about to pass out at the request, but gave a weak nod, squeaking out, “Y-yessir, Master Potter.”

Harry very pointedly did not look at anyone’s face as they left the room. If they were shocked, or pleased, or concerned, he didn’t want to know. Instead, he followed close behind Mosely, trying his best to draw a mental map of the house as they walked through it. 

It didn’t seem ominously large, again subverting his ideas of pureblood wizards, and when they walked up a set of stairs it looked as though it were the only one. Two floors, then, and unless there were hidden corridors, both were rather straightforward layout of rooms. 

The third door on the left off the stairs was the one Mosely stopped to open, and Harry stepped inside to see a rather neat bedroom.

Harry looked around it, confused, because he didn’t see anything in it that indicated it belonged to him, beyond his trunk against the foot of the bed. There were no pictures, no posters, nothing personal. 

“Is the charm to Master Potter’s liking?” Mosely asked, hands worrying at the hem of his sack shirt.

Charm? 

Oh. A charm. Of course.

“Break it,” Harry said.

“P-pardon?!” Mosely startled. Harry looked at him, concerned, but the house elf must have mistaken it for a threat, as he squeaked in fear and quickly snapped his fingers.

The neat, basic bedroom image fell away, revealing a much more comfortably looking space. Gryffindor colors shimmered here and there, a Quidditch poster hung on the wall, and a picture sat on his nightstand. In the photo, a beaming Harry held up a trophy shaped like a snitch, flanked on one side by Draco Malfoy and the other by two boys - Ron Weasley at the edge of the frame, and, standing right next to Harry, Cedric Diggory. 

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Cedric. Of course - no Voldemort, no interference in the Triwizard Tournament, no death. 

He was probably still alive. They might be friends. 

His stomach turned. Looking at Cedric’s face was making his throat close and his eyes burned, and he moved quickly, setting the picture face-down on the dresser. 

The other Harry had so many good things, and he didn’t appreciate a single one. Meanwhile, the thought of a parent loving him or having a friend who had not been murdered for the crime of knowing him made him physically ill. 

He was finding it hard to breathe, actually. 

_ Not your family,  _ the phantoms whispered in his ears. 

“Go away,” he hissed to them. 

A pop announced Mosely’s departure. 

“Shit,” he swore, and vowed to make a better effort at that later. He didn’t have time to worry about it, right now, though.

Right now, the overturned frame his hand still rested on felt like a hot iron, burning his fingers where they touched it, and he yanked his arm back and stumbled away from it. 

Something else. He needed something else to focus on. 

What was that?

Harry stepped closer to his dresser, tipping his head back and forth, watching the unusual shimmer of one strip through the center of it. 

He reached out, tapping a fingernail against the spot. A chime like a bell rang out, and he did it again, listening to the sound. A tap on the normal glass beside it did nothing, and using a fingertip instead of a nail made a deeper sound, like a drum.

“What are you?” Harry murmured, pressing his fingers up against the glass, pushing in on it. 

Instead of making another noise, though, a square of the mirror sunk inward under his hand, and when he pulled back, the square popped back up and swung open, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside, hanging from a silver hook, was a little golden key, about the size of Harry’s pinky finger.

He plucked it from its spot, examining it closely, absentmindedly closing the compartment he’d taken it from as he did.

This implied, of course, that there was something  _ locked  _ in this place, with the key hidden behind an enchantment that was in turn hidden behind a charm. Something that warranted that level of protection and secrecy - his curiosity was definitely piqued. 

“Harry?”

Harry startled, fingers snapping shut around the key, hiding it on instinct as he looked up to see who was speaking to him.

It was Regulus, who was blinking at the room in shock.

“There was a concealment charm over it,” he offered in explanation. “I asked Mosely to take it down, though.”

Regulus gave a soft, amused huff. “Of course there was.” Then, slightly more somber, he asked, “Are you okay? Mosely seemed upset…”

Harry grimaced at the reminder. “I think I scared him,” he admitted. “Snapped at him. Didn’t mean to.”

Regulus leveled him with a considering look. “He’ll be okay. It’s hardly the first time you’ve frightened him.”

Harry winced.

“I knew it,” Regulus declared, sweeping into the room. “You’re really trying to fix that, aren’t you? Merlin, Harry - don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of you being a bit kinder, but...you know you don’t have to do this for us to love you, right?”

Harry let out a breath. “No, I know,” he answered, which was mostly true. They loved him, even if the version of him they knew was a massive twat. “It’s-...this is for me.”

There was a moment of heavy silence, where Harry held his breath, and then Regulus beamed at him.

“Just making sure,” Regulus said, stepping close. His hand cupped the back of Harry’s head and dragged it forward, placing a kiss on his forehead. He held Harry there for a moment, before murmuring, “You haven’t let me do this in a long time.”

Harry gave a noncommital hum, stomach tying itself in knots at the parental affection from someone he didn’t even know. His only reference for a loving family were the Weasleys, and he couldn’t help but compare Regulus to Molly - a temper and a whirlwind of emotions, loving so fiercely in spite of anything. 

If one of her kids had turned out to be a prick, she probably would have still loved them, just like this. It would have hurt her, but she was always a mother first. 

The comparison made Harry slightly sick, because this version of him had  _ two  _ parents who refused to give up on him, and his alternate had been shoving them aside and scorning them for years. Why? What could possibly have justified that in his mind? Harry had never been particularly malicious to the  _ Dursleys,  _ and he had plenty of reason to be. 

(Granted, that would have likely ended badly for him, but  _ still.)  _

Harry wanted to say something, but got stuck trying to think of how to address Regulus, because his name was a definite  _ no  _ and the title ‘Papa’ didn’t sit naturally in his mouth. By the time he’d made the decision to just start speaking and hope he paid attention, Regulus released him, heading back out the bedroom door and pausing at it for a moment.

“We’re in the kitchen, if you need us,” Regulus said. “If we don’t see you, I’ll send food up, so don’t worry about dinner.”

Then he just...left, walking away like that exchange was perfectly normal and not something Harry had been desperate for for  _ years.  _

Harry eased the door shut once he was gone, and looked back down at the key in his palm for a moment, before slipping it into his pocket.

He’d explore a bit, he decided, and see if he couldn’t figure out what that went to. He was dying to know what his alternate was hiding.

A peek into the hall revealed no one waiting outside the door, and so he slipped out, looking around at the doors around him. There were six, including his own, three on either side of the hall in a staggered pattern. 

He checked the door closest to the stairs, first, and found a bathroom, which was simple enough that he was content to shut the door and move on. The next door on that side was his room, so he skipped over that, and the third door revealed a bedroom that appeared to belong to Remus and Sirius, judging by the photos of the two that were displayed within it. 

That side’s options exhausted, he crossed the hall, letting himself the room across from Remus and Sirius’ bedroom.

It was  _ also  _ a bedroom, and unlike the previous one, it was occupied. 

James looked up from where he was sitting, hunched over at the foot of his bed, glasses off and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

He looked tired. Harry wondered if that was because of him, or if his father was tired for many reasons, and this whole thing just happened to be one of them. 

“Hey, kiddo,” James greeted him, joking tone ruined a bit by how utterly weak and exhausted he sounded. “A little old to be hiding in your parents’ room, aren’t you?”

Harry wouldn’t really know. He had no frame of reference for what sort of family behavior was normal at what point, considering that he’d had a family for all of about a day so far. He couldn’t  _ say  _ that, though, and he didn’t think he’d be able to get away with just turning around and leaving. He was debating pretending to have gotten lost, trying to figure out how one would explain forgetting the layout of their own house, when James let out a heavy sigh. 

“Your papa is pissed at me,” James told him. “Apparently a potions test was an ‘insensitive’ move, even if you were babbling about- Merlin, I don’t even know what. Ministry nonsense you definitely shouldn’t have been on about.”

Harry didn’t know about  _ insensitive,  _ but… “They had already given me a potion,” he reminded James. “A test was useless. The only thing it did was tell me you didn’t believe me.”

“Believe you?” James sat up straight. “ _ Believe- _ Harry, you were talking about restricted access areas, places even  _ I  _ can’t get into. If it’s think you’ve taken something funny and haven’t slept it off yet, or think you broke into the Ministry to find out about those things - believe it or not, son, this is the benefit of the doubt.” 

“If you’d  _ listen _ to me-..”

“So you can _ lie _ ?” James snapped back. “Harry, what did you do to your arm?”

Harry faltered, confused, before he remembered the cuts. “...When I broke the mirror-...”

“I don’t mean actually cutting them in,” James said. “I got that part-...”

He most certainly did  _ not,  _ and Harry would have loved to tell him as much, if he had a single chance to speak.

“-...I meant the healing. You used a stitching charm on it. You don’t  _ stitch  _ a  _ cut,  _ Harry.”

Many things passed through Harry’s mind then, but sarcasm was always his first response, and so what came out of his mouth was a wry, “Muggles do.”

“What?”

“Sew cuts,” Harry clarified. “If they’re too deep to heal on their own, muggles stitch them up, and they heal around the thread.” 

James gave an exasperated-sounding sigh. “We’re not  _ Muggles,  _ Harry.”

There was the faintest disdain in the way he said that, and Harry couldn’t help but think of the Slytherin man his father married in this world, the pureblood status he casually bore. Was he, perhaps, one of  _ them?  _ One of those snobbish elite who Harry despised? 

James seemed to catch the anger on his face, and shook his head, shoulders slumping. “I don’t mean to sound-...I don’t want to sound like one of those Pureblood fanatic arseholes, or anything. I just- why would you make things harder for yourself?”

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence.

“...Harry-...”

“Prongs-..!”

James and Harry both startled, looking to the door, where Sirius had just entered. 

He let out a soft, awkward, “Ah,” looking between the father and son. “Reggie’s temper tantrum’s reached a low point for the evening, we think, so it’s probably safe to come down. Uh, you, too, Harry. If you’re hungry.”

And then he turned and left, all but running away from them. 

“Well,” James breathed, moving to stand. “I guess that’s my cue.”

“Are you-...” Harry started to ask, then stopped, biting the question back.

“Am I what?” James prompted.

“...Are you two going to be okay?” Harry asked, quietly. “Do you argue like this a lot?”

James blinked at him, looking stunned. “I-....yes, Harry, we’ll be fine. He’s not actually mad at me. Trust me, if he gets  _ really  _ angry, you’ll know it. He’s just upset, and he’s mean when he’s upset. We’ll both get over it when we’ve calmed down.”

Harry gave a small, hesitant nod. 

Petunia and Vernon had never fought, as far as Harry had seen. There was a pecking order in their family, with no room for arguments. Vernon’s will first, then Dudley’s, then Petunia’s, and then the opinions of neighbors and church friends and second cousins and generally anyone who wasn’t Harry, and then sometimes there were still things left they didn’t mind Harry choosing, like which of his chores to do first. 

Molly and Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, did occasionally squabble, but he’d never seen them in a fight where they genuinely stopped speaking to each other, as James and Regulus were currently.

If James claimed it was normal, then, Harry would have to take his word for it. It wasn’t as though he had any room to challenge it. He couldn’t even claim to know regular behavior for either of them individually, let alone them together. 

As he stepped out into the hall after his father, he spared a glance to the two doors he’d still yet to open. After dinner, he thought. As soon as everyone was settled in for the night and he thought he was safe to roam, he’d look into what else was upstairs.

For now, though, he would see what all else was  _ downstairs. _

He followed James down the stairs and into the dining room, where a handful of house elves were setting out dinner. 

One of them caught sight of him as he stepped through the doorway, let out a loud squeak, and vanished immediately. The noise must have been a warning, because almost in an instant, the four or five house elves that had just been filling the room were all gone. 

“What was that about?” Harry asked the room at large.

Remus shook his head, lips curled up in wry amusement. “Mosely implied you’d gotten upset, so you father gave them permission to avoid you for the time being.”

“Meaning they think I’m going to hurt them, and no one believes I wouldn’t.”

Remus frowned. “No one thinks your going to-...Merlin, Harry, you really are putting yourself down lately.” He gestured to the chair across from him, and Harry took a seat. “No one thinks you’re going to  _ hurt  _ anyone. You just...You can be rather cold when you’re in a mood, and verbal abuse is still a mistreatment they shouldn’t have to deal with.”

Harry grimaced. “I didn’t mean to snap at Mosely earlier.”

“You snapped at him?”

Harry hesitated - first, because he’d assumed that was what they meant by him ‘implying’ he’d gotten upset, but also because he couldn’t tell the true story without having to explain  _ oh, yes, and I’m also hearing voices, and they’re oddly insistent that I should be dead.  _

Wouldn’t really help his argument that there was nothing wrong with him, that one.

“Did you?” 

Harry looked up to lock eyes with a curious looking Regulus, peeking out of the kitchen doorway. 

“He just said you kicked him out,” Regulus explained.

“I did,” Harry said. “I just- I was rude about it, was all.”

Both men stared at him, incredulous.

Harry was just going to have to stop talking to them, because that was going beyond annoying. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to come up with anything else to say - a house elf appeared, barely sparing Harry a nervous glance before stuttering out, “M-misses Evans for you, Masters Potter.”

James’ head appeared over Regulus’ shoulder. “Evans? Did you call-...?”

“I did,” Remus interrupted, before looking to Harry. “I hope you can forgive me butting in, but...you seemed like you could use a talk with her.”

_ Her. Evans. _

_ Lily  _ Evans.

He was about to meet his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry:   
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a wee bit shorter than the last 3, but we'll be back up in word count with the next one I think  
> I just wanted to round this one off with just the lily evans content >:3

“Remus Lupin, I will wring your neck!”

Remus grimaced, looking to the house elf who had come to fetch him. “Can you take Harry back upstairs?”

“What?” Harry squawked. “You brought my mum here and I don’t even get to talk to her?”

“I’ll send her up,” Remus said. “I just need to talk to her first.”

Harry reminded himself firmly that it would  _ not  _ help the sulky teen image he’d tripped into if he stormed off in a huff. Instead, he took a very dignified retreat, with a heavy roll of his eyes once he was out of view. 

“Master Potter?” 

Harry faltered on the stairs, looking down at the house elf who was escorting him. “Hm?”

“Rogger is sorry for bothering Master Potter,” the house elf said. “B-but...Rogger is being in the service of Missus Evans first, and the Masters Potter after, and the Missus is wanting to see her son more than she is wanting to be angry with Mister Lupin. She...she wouldn’t be wanting you to be sent away.” The house elf backed up a bit, jerking his head to the side. “Rogger could be hiding Master Potter, if he is wanting to hear what is being said about him?”

“You’d do that?” Harry asked. “Yes! Yes, please do, thank you. I want to know what they’re talking about.” 

Rogger nodded, and snapped his fingers, before starting to quietly creep back toward the room, grabbing the door and creaking it back open. 

He must have put an invisibility spell of some sort over Harry, or cast some type of silencing charm or notice-me-not, because the five people in the room didn’t even glance their way. 

James and Regulus were seated on the couch in the room with the floo fireplace, sitting stiff side-by-side, with Remus in the remaining open seat, and Sirius perched on the arm of the couch beside him. 

Lily, on the other hand, was standing in front of them, and was in the middle of shouting about something. 

“-Sending me a cryptic letter like that!” she was saying. “‘Harry needs you,’ and nothing else, you absolute arse. If you’re about to tell me he is anything short of dying-...!”

“Careful what you wish for.”

Remus’ eyes slid close, letting out a low breath at Sirius’ input. “Love,” he murmured, “Perhaps don’t.”

“...What are you talking about?” Lily asked, voice low and dangerous. “Remus, what the hell does he mean?  _ What is wrong with my son?”  _

“We don’t know,” Remus said. “Not really. He won’t tell us.”

Harry had to physically bite down on the scoff he wanted to give at that one. 

“He babbles about it when you ask,” Sirius offered. “We think he’s got a curse on him, keeping him from properly telling us what’s going on.”

“A  _ curse?”  _ Lily snapped, before turning sharply to the other end of the couch. “James, explain. Right now.”

“We think Harry’s depressed,” James said. “Or, well, we know he is, we just don’t know why.”

“Depressed?” Lily echoed. “Why do you-...”

“He tried to kill himself.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Very tactful, James,” Regulus said.

James rolled his eyes. “None of you were any gentler to me about it.”

“He…” Lily looked stunned, eyes darting between each of the men in front of her. Eventually, they landed on Remus - the only one who would meet her eyes. “What did he…?”

“I caught him trying to jump off the Astronomy Tower,” Remus said. “And we’re pretty sure it isn’t the first time he’s hurt himself.”

“...Master Potter?”

Harry looked down, to Rogger, who was looking horrified. Not sure how solid the charm hiding them was, he simply shook his head, and mouthed  _ ‘I’m fine.’  _

“No, Master Potter,” Rogger said. “Missus Evans won’t stay down here much longer, not after she is hearing  _ that _ . We need to go.”

“But-...” Harry looked up, back toward his mother, who he still hadn’t gotten to speak to. He didn’t know her, not yet, if he could just-...

“She’ll come up!” Rogger insisted, tugging his arm toward the stairs. “We must be leaving!”

With a sigh, Harry relented, letting the elf drag him back upstairs. 

Once returned to his room, he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. A glance sideways made the happy photo look mocking, and he stared at the smile on his prick alternate in disgust as he waited.

It didn’t take long before the door opened again, and Harry sat up to watch Lily Evans enter the room, looking at him with teary eyes. 

“Harry,” she said. “Hey baby. You doing okay?”

“I-..” Harry had a denial of the whole thing on the tip of his tongue, ready for another attempt at convincing someone that this was just a massive misunderstanding, but it failed him at his mother’s face.

He’d never met this woman. She’d died for him, protected him for life with the force of her love, and he’d never met her.

“..I’m okay.”

Lily crossed the room in a few quick strides, collapsing on the bed next to him, throwing her arms around him. She held him close, petting his curls as she did, and he could feel her taking shaky breaths.

“I’m really okay,” Harry tried again - he didn’t know what to do with the concerned motherly affection, something he’d never received even a facsimile of. This wasn’t meant for  _ him,  _ it was meant for a mirror version of him (who, in Harry’s humble opinion, did not really deserve it).  

“Remus told me…” she started, then stopped, pulling back a bit. She cradled his face in her hands, tipping it up to look at her. “Sweetheart, was  _ I  _ what you saw in the Mirror of Erised?”

Harry hesitated, unsure of how to explain, but that moment of pause gave him away.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed. “Let me tell you something, alright?”

“I’m really-...”

“Hush,” Lily said, and Harry’s jaw snapped shut, but he didn’t have time to be annoyed by another interruption before she kept speaking. “You need to know this. When we had you, it was the happiest I’ve ever been. Never once did I want anything more than  _ you.  _ When your father took an office position with the Ministry instead of being a free-roaming Auror, though, I got fed up with being a housewife, and I knew he wasn’t happy, either. We would have made each other miserable, and that would have made  _ you  _ miserable, so...I left. I promised to never take two trips in a row without a visit, and I suppose I thought visiting enough would make up for the time I wasn’t around. But I must have miscalculated.” 

She leaned forward, then, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sweetheart,” she murmured to him, “I love you. You are the single most important thing in my life. That has always been the case, and it always will be. No matter what happens, no matter how often I see you, know that there is  _ nothing _ in this world that means more to me than you.”

Harry shouldn’t be getting this speech. Harry was taking this from someone else, from someone who  _ had  _ a family, while he-...

He was dragged back into a hug, and he realized he was crying.

_ Oh.  _

He couldn’t help it, though - this was something he’d only ever dreamt of, and never once had he come up with imagined words that reached the part of him Lily’s real ones did. His mother’s love was not a fluke of his universe, after all, like he’d been quietly fearing since learning she wasn’t around for this Harry. No, she loved him just as strongly, she just thought everyone would be happier with her a step removed.

Harry could relate to that, he supposed. 

“Anything you need from me,” Lily said to him. “ _ Anything,  _ you send me an owl straight away. Actually, bugger that-...”

Harry choked out a surprised laugh, which Lily met with a giggle of her own. 

“I’m going to get you a speaking-glass,” she said. “It’s like a two-way mirror, but more open. It can connect to different places. I have to carry one for work, to file reports on the go, but I’ll give you one you can contact me through whenever you need- or even just  _ want _ to. I’ll answer, or if I miss it, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m too far away, or that you aren’t every bit as important to me as I’ve told you.” 

She pulled back again, then, letting him go except for resting her hands on his shoulders. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Harry,” she said, making his stomach sink, “but...your father is an  _ idiot.”  _

Harry’s surprised laugh returned, this time even harder to recover from.

“He is!” Lily insisted. “Absolute bloody moron, that one.”

Harry’s lips curled up in a smile, and he went along with it in spite of himself, prompting, “Which one?”

“Both,” she said. “James is who I meant, but Regulus married him, so he’s just as bad.”

“... _ You  _ married him.”

She waved him off. “I was young. Girls, Harry, are told their whole lives that the most important thing they can do is get a husband. By the time we’re old enough, we’re not nearly as picky as we ought to be.” She leaned forward, kissing his forehead again. “I love him, of course, but...we are better as friends.” She tapped the tip of his nose with a finger. “But he gave me you, so I’m glad for those years all the same. That’s not what I meant, though.”

Harry blinked at her, waiting.

“No, see,” Lily said, “your father is an idiot, in this instance, because he thinks you took something or some nonsense, and this is all just the after-effect.” 

“I didn’t take anything,” Harry said. “I stepped through the Veil of Death.”

Lily paused, gaping at him for a moment. “...Metaphorically, or..?”

“Literally,” Harry countered. “From the Department of Mysteries.” 

Lily blinked. “How do you…?” 

“We were fighting there,” Harry said. “Sirius fell through it, and I followed him, and ended up here.”

“Here, as in…?”

“This world,” Harry confirmed. “Two days ago, I was an orphan, Sirius was an escaped convict, and I was fighting for my life against Voldemort and his followers. Then I stepped through the Veil and popped out on the other side of the bloody Mirror of Erised, which broke as soon as I touched it, and I’ve been trying to convince everyone that I’m not supposed to be here since.”

“But you babble,” she realized. “This rambling you’re doing now, it’s that, but worse?”

Harry gave a hesitant nod. 

“Harry, I’m an Unspeakable,” Lily whispered to him. As he straightened, she reached into her shirt, pulling out a little charm necklace. “I’m an Investigator. This charm is a subtle one that prompts for honesty, making people a little more willing to speak openly. It’s the only thing that can break through the Confundus Charm we place on Ministry objects.”

“That’s what’s on me?” Harry asked. “So that-...wait. You believe me?”

“Of course. Should I not?”

“My dad thinks I took a dodgy potion,” Harry confessed. 

Lily snorted. “Ah, yes, the classified information revealing potion. I’m familiar.” She rolled her eyes heavily. “Honestly, that man. No, Harry, I believe you. Like I said, the charm makes one naturally more inclined to honesty - you’d have to be a damn good liar to appear this honest while fighting it. Not to mention that particular Confundus is very distinct- it doesn’t scramble your memories, it scrambles your ability to speak on them. That way, you can’t tell anyone what you know, but Unspeakables can still pull the evidence from your mind and then cleanly erase it all.”

“So you could look at what happened?”

“I couldn’t, unfortunately,” Lily said. “I’m not a Legilimens. But…” She pursed her lips, taking a moment to deliberate, before telling him, “I’ll figure something out. We’ll find out what happened. In the meantime…”

She blinked, apparently catching up with herself.

“...You were at war?” she murmured. 

“With Voldemort,” Harry confirmed. “He-...when I was a baby, he killed you and my dad, and tried to kill me. He failed because you protected me.”

“He used the killing curse?” Lily asked. When Harry nodded, she swore under her breath. “A sacrificial protection stronger than an unforgivable - I must have put everything I had into it. What happened?”

“It rebounded and destroyed him,” Harry said. “But it didn’t actually kill him. He escaped, and came back later, when I was in school.”

Lily pursed her lips. “You said Sirius was a convict? Why was he arrested?”

“They said he told Voldemort where to find you, and killed muggles in the process.”

“Bullshit!” Lily snapped. “Sirius would never-...!”

“He didn’t,” Harry assured her. “He was framed. Peter Pettigrew was the one who sold you out.”

Lily blinked at him. Weakly, she murmured, “Blasted rat. And here I thought I had enough reason to hate him for the shit he said to James  _ here.”  _

Intrigued, Harry raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain.

“Ah,” she said. “I guess you wouldn’t remember that, if we were dead, huh? When James got with Regulus, it took Sirius some time to come around, but Peter...he never did. Said some right nasty things about them, and that was it. All those years, thrown away.”

Harry sighed, feeling bad for how  _ relieved _ it was. He’d been worried that his parents still had their traitor as a friend, and that he’d have to deal with convincing them that he was a  _ coward  _ first and foremost and not to be trusted. 

“If Sirius was a criminal, where did you two hide?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t live with Sirius. I didn’t meet him until I was a teenager.”

“What?!” Lily straightened. “Who did you stay with?” 

“...Aunt Petunia?” 

Lily blanched. “Please tell me she is nicer with me gone.”

“I think she got worse, actually,” Harry offered. “Uncle Vernon was the real problem, though.”

Lily hunched forward, burying her face in her hands.  _ “Why? _ Why would I leave you to them?”

“You didn’t,” Harry promised. “Dumbledore did.”

Lily sat straight again, looking outraged. “Albus Dumbledore, our great and powerful headmaster of Hogwarts who everyone’s worshiped at the feet of for years, hailed for being fearless and all-knowing, gave  _ my son  _ to my _ sister?”  _

Harry suddenly felt very bad for Dumbledore, regardless of what version of him, that had to face Lily Evans after this for any reason. He was probably going to get an unpleasant surprise. 

Taking a deep breath, Lily started back at the beginning, summarizing what she’d been told. “So your parents were murdered, you were under a protection charm, and you grew up with muggles who hate magic. Then you went to school, and your parents’ killer shows back up to try and kill you again?” At Harry’s nod, she continued, “And you ended up in a fight at the Ministry, where you stepped through the Veil of Death, and ended up here?”

“On the other side of the Mirror of Erised,” Harry reminded her. “Which broke.”

“Right.” Lily shook her head, letting out a huff. “Why would it-...Oh.  _ Oh.”  _

Harry perked up at the realization that was crossing her face. “What? What is it? Do you know why-...”

Lily’s hand shot out, splaying out across Harry’s chest, stopping him short. Before he could ask what she was doing, she murmured an unfamiliar spell, staring as the space under her fingers lit up with intertwined green and gold lights. 

“It’s trying to kill you,” she murmured. “Oh, Harry- somehow, the Veil couldn’t kill you in your world. Maybe it was my protection, maybe the dark wizard did something, maybe you’re just special...but it couldn’t kill you. So it took you somewhere where it  _ could.”  _

“Somewhere Voldemort didn’t exist,” Harry breathed. “Somewhere I was ordinary. So that’s what the phantoms are- it’s still trying to kill me?”

“I believe so,” Lily said. “The Department of Mysteries doesn’t make a habit of letting people mess with their things and stay able to talk about it. The Veil of Death hides something, even I don’t know what, but the price for looking through it is-..well,  _ death.  _ Whatever secret it shows, only two groups of people have seen: the dead who were lost in it, and the Haunted.”

“The Haunted?”

Lily nodded. “Unspeakables who have used an artifact, and somehow lived, but we scrambled by the protection magic. There’s a hospital ward, deep beneath the Ministry, just for them. They’re-... _ mad  _ is forgiving, Harry. Think how hard is is for you to make yourself understood to the others, while your wits are still about you. These people have that, and their thoughts are...scattered. Whatever they saw ate at their brains, and half the time, they don’t seem to even know what the world around them  _ is.”  _

“I need to talk to them,” Harry said immediately. “Maybe- maybe if we can figure out what is beyond the Veil, what the Veil was trying to show me when it sent me  _ here _ , I can figure out how to go back.”

Lily shook her head, but not in denial - more like defeat. “They’ll never let you in there, it’s beyond top secret. They’d have my tongue just for  _ implying  _ it existed, let alone outright telling you. But…” 

“But?” Harry prompted, leaning forward slightly, hanging off her every word.

“I can see what I can dig up,” she said. “If...if you really want to go back.”

Harry’s stomach sank, ice coming up to circle his throat. He thought of the war, the death, the suffering-...but also of his  _ friends,  _ Ron and Hermione and the DA and-...

But here, he had family. Here, he was someone who may not have been  _ great,  _ but wasn’t irredeemable either. 

“I…” He chewed his lower lip, thinking it over. “There’s a war. They’re counting on me. And- it’s still trying to kill me, right? Even if I  _ don’t  _ go back- well, if I  _ can’t-  _ I still need to know how to break whatever curse it put on me.” 

“Settled, then,” Lily sighed, moving to stand. “I’ll get to work on that right away. Oh, and Harry?”

“Hm?”

Lily gave him a kind, soft smile, and pulled him to his feet, dragging him in for another hug. 

“I may not be the same version of her that died for you,” she murmured, “but you are still my son, and I love you every bit as much as she did.” 

She pulled away, kissing his temple, and winked at him. “Keep this quiet, for now,” she told him. “I’m about to break a whole lot of rules, so let’s keep it between us, yeah?” 

Then she turned, leaving the room in the haste of a woman on a mission. 

Harry collapsed back onto his bed, stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, and tried not to cry. 

  
  
  
  
  


The same second Lily re-entered the room, all the men in it were on their feet, practically tripping over each other trying to ask after Harry. 

“James Potter,” Lily said sharply, catching her ex-husband’s attention. “We’ve spoken, I know what’s going on, and I’m handling it.  _ You  _ are going to pull up your good old Charms affinity and making him a speaking-glass, so that he can speak to us whenever he needs, and then you are going to stop trying to figure out if he’s taken something or been hexed or gone loony, because you’re just showing him that you don’t trust him, and that’s not going to do anything but drive you apart.”

“Lily-…”

“Don’t you ‘ _ Lily’  _ me, Regulus,” she snapped at the man as he cut in. “I’ve talked to him, we’ve worked something out, and you lot are going to help me. Now, I ran out of a meeting, so I need to make sure I didn’t start an international incident. While I’m gone, maybe take the time to remind your son that people love him?” She crossed the room, stepping into the floo fireplace. “Something tells me he doesn’t hear it near enough.”

She tossed the powder down, spat out  _ “Greek Ministry”  _ like a curse, and vanished.

“Well,” James breathed out. “She didn’t kill me, at least.”

“A near miss,” Regulus said. “She’ll get around to it, one day.” 

James turned a small, amused smile on his husband. “Is the joking a sign that you’re done being cross with me?”

Regulus shoved his shoulder in response. “Quit being a prick about this, and we’ll see.”

“At least Harry told Lily what’s going on,” Remus said. “Or, well, that’s what it sounded like she was implying. Maybe we can-...oh.”

Everyone looked to the doorway as Harry appeared, arms wrapped around himself, looking around the room with that curious expression from when they’d first arrived. 

The tip of his nose and the white of his eyes were both tinged with red, which everyone noticed, but no one pointed out. 

“Harry,” Remus greeted. “Did you need us?”

“...We were going to eat,” Harry reminded him. “Before my mum showed up.”

“Right.” They’d all honestly forgotten, but Sirius was quick to head back into the kitchen at the reminder, James close at his heels. 

Regulus hovered for a moment, before heading in as well, leaving Remus and Harry standing in the drawing room alone.

“I hope you forgive my butting in,” Remus said. “But I really think that contacting her was the right thing to do, and if it helped at all, I don’t regret it.”

“No, you’re okay,” Harry murmured in reply. “I-...That was a conversation I needed to have. I had things I needed to say, and she’s-...well, no offense, but she was much easier to talk to.”

“That’s Lily,” Remus said. “Remarkably good listener, if you’re willing to put up with whatever biting commentary she has to offer when you’re done.” 

“She called my dad an idiot,” Harry told him. “...A couple times, actually.”

“Yes, well,” Remus nodded toward the kitchen. “She’s  _ met  _ him.” 

Harry let out a surprised little laugh, and Remus’ heart soared at the first sign of happiness he’d seen from the boy in a long time. How had he never noticed, until now, how rarely Harry smiled? How long had it been since he heard that laugh - not cruel and taunting, but genuinely amused?

He didn’t know. He didn’t like that at all. 

“Luckily,” Remus offered, “It sounds as though your dads have declared a truce, so maybe James will be a bit less harsh in his judgement from here on out. He’s going to be making you a speaking-glass, by the way, so you can call us or your mom whenever you need us.”

Harry looked surprised. “He is?”

“Yes,” Remus said. “Your mother suggested it. Did she not warn you?”

“No, she said she’d get me one,” Harry said. “It’s just- well, that’s before we really talked. I didn’t know if she still wanted-...”

Something tragic must have shown on Remus’ face, because Harry caught his eye and abruptly cut off.

“Nevermind,” Harry said. “Let’s-...I’m hungry. Can we eat now?”

“Of course,” Remus agreed, gesturing to the doorway. “After you.”

As Harry passed through the doorway, he pressed a hand into his pocket, feeling the mystery key he’d discovered earlier.

His mom was going to investigate the mystery of where he’d come from, which meant that it was up to him, in the meantime, to figure out who he’d been. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my headcanon for james potter is that he is generally a good person but he never really outgrew his whole Being An Asshole thing and it Shows

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is SpicyReyes!~


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